


Home Isn't Home Without You

by the_word_chemist



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, I hope, I hope it is, I suppose the last one is right, M/M, So yeah, a e s t h e t i c s o W o, a n y w a y s, aesthetic, also theres an A g e G a p, cause like fuck logic amirite?, dont worry the summary will make things clear, good luck figuring out what i end up keeping lmao, hes too good at singing to be his age prove me wrong, i firmly believe that woojins a middle aged man with a really good dye job, i thought of this during a concert its not that good, im so s o f t oh my god, im tagging before i write this so idk if these will really be accurate, ive figured out that the only way for me to write anything is to throw all my shame away, no but yeah i like to think this is kinda, only a few years lol i needed woojins experience to make sense, or maybe it is you decide, r&b?, skz are mentioned but not by name, so if you thought i was gonna get embarrassed for being a mushy fuck, theres no other plausible explanation for his amazing voice, think again bitch, this is to work on until i get more time for the Big One™, we goin f l u f f, yeah this got really corny at the end, yeah this is just me word vomiting but its supposed to be cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 15:56:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18472204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_word_chemist/pseuds/the_word_chemist
Summary: literally just fluff, read it if you want to feel E m O t I o N s





	Home Isn't Home Without You

**Author's Note:**

> I don't necessarily have time to write one of my bigger ideas right now and I haven't worked on the "Cinderella" plot yet, but I wanted to put this fluff out to tide my writing over until I can continue the other one. Enjoy mindless thoughts with your host, me!  
> Ahhhh this is so bad, I promise I do well in English class!

Woojin danced around the empty café stage, not a care in the world while Chan just kept drawing chords out of his guitar. The singer belted out whatever he wanted, knowing he didn’t need to keep quiet for the neighbors. Most stores had shut down by then and they weren’t located in a very popular part of town. The nightlife in Rochester was like Latin: dead, and painfully boring to most. No one liked to stay out so late that even streetlamps shut off; no one but Chan and Woojin, it seemed.

These late nights were nice, the younger always thought. Of course he loved when their café was active, having grown accustomed to interacting with customers all day long and chatting with the old couples that dropped by regularly after bingo evenings on Fridays. They loved to tell him about their little misadventures. He knew at this point to expect a story of how lost the Caulfields got every week on their way to town hall, and how to remember when Mr. Olivers planned to bring his granddaughter so he could prepare cookies and hot cocoa for them.

Stray cats and dogs would materialize around the back like clockwork every day, and he was always there with some extra bread he starting making less than a year after opening shop. It was always just for the small ones he’d become so protective of. If he couldn’t be there at noon one day out of twelve, he’d send Woojin wearing his apron and bracelets to calm them. He hoped they trusted his fiancé too at this point but he could never be too sure, and never wanted to scare the poor dears off.

A small group of teens would get little treats in the afternoon every now and then, never staying for long. The youngest of them always had something new to say, either a fact about the stars or something they learned in school. Chan listened earnestly, glad to provide some comfort for those he knew were stressed out of their minds. The kid’s friends tried to shush her the first few times they showed up but they got the message he’d been trying to send them in the October of what must’ve been their freshman year – he was there to listen. He assumed he succeeded, or they would probably just go to the other three pastry shops in town.

Chan liked the way his little sanctuary felt alive during the day, but he treasured the nights with Woojin just as much.

The couple performed every few weeks, letting their employees take over for a few hours as they jammed out to the delight of anyone who cared to listen. Usually Chan would play the guitar for the other’s voice, or Woojin would play the piano and sing while Chan watched and talked to the audience. On occasion the younger would sing instead, Woojin and the piano backing his voice, but he rather preferred playing for his fiancé than being the center of attention. It felt nice to have a hand in making his favorite voice shine brighter than any star.

Tonight was a rehearsal for the performance tomorrow, and everything was running without a hitch. Chan had perched himself on his stool an hour earlier, the lovely old thing smooth from years of use. His legs tangled with the rungs and he looked down, focusing the fretboard as he listened for Woojin’s voice. The man sang earnestly, having switched from the lively dancing melody to a more sombre tune. He sang, face distorting to display his emotions, bordering on tears. He shouldn’t be able to transfer the very soul of his music into others’ hearts so easily, but Chan could feel his heart breaking in sympathy for whoever wrote those lyrics, whoever wove this tale of woe.

He broke out of his little reverie when he realized they were to switch songs, and readied himself for the change of mood. Finally looking up, he started up some major chords after an ending that faded itself out. Woojin grinned again, something like a hearth in his warm eyes as he sang along. He had eyes only for the younger as he danced around again, lively to a fault. Every ten seconds it looked like he would fall over or break something, and each time he gave Chan a mini-heart attack. He was usually so graceful, Chan had absolutely no idea why he couldn’t seem to stand up straight right now.

The blond started up some vocal harmonies, staring back into his lover’s eyes. In the yellowing light, the whole café felt more nostalgic than possible. Woojin’s hair gleamed in the faded lamps.

_He looks like an angel._

Chan let himself mindlessly strum away and get lost in the moment. A soft smile edged its way on his face, replacing the look of concentration from moments earlier when he was conscious of his accompaniment. He closed his eyes for a second and hummed more than sang, swayed in his seat more than tapped his foot.

Whisked from the stool with no warning, Chan’s eyes shot open and he yelped at the force. Woojin just laughed as he caught the younger in a shallow dip, furiously clutching the neck of his guitar. The singer shuffled their awkward little party over to Chan’s guitar stand as he eased it out of the startled man’s grip and set it down.

The humming continued uninterrupted as Chan relaxed into familiar arms, stepping in time with his fiancé’s feet and letting him walk them around. The silence of nighttime was suffused soon enough by the song of an old-fashioned gramophone. A soft, crooning voice echoed in the stillness of _Chan’s Kitchen_ as the moon shone through wide windows, bearing witness to the young love.    

Even as the warped trumpet floated from a flue of music, picking up pace, they took their time, slightly off beat. There was never a rush, both of them knew it. The pair revelled in the fact.

Spinning a bit in the dim light of a closed café, a guitar stood and remained forgotten and alone in the corner as Woojin had taken ahold of the younger’s hands. He twirled him around the small room and loved the giggles he’d hear each time they spun a bit too fast. Their dance wasn’t fast-paced by any means; their song was slow and loving, voices exuding a sense of leisure that only came from comfort found in one another. Chan took to stepping up onto his feet, letting them swing from side to side as they harmonized. Calming lyrics were passed back and forth in tandem, the café owners taking their time.

The younger rested his head on Woojin’s shoulder, not tired but still just swaying to the beat. Five songs had passed by in this manner, and they still had yet to rehearse their more upbeat tunes. The blonde assumed their impromptu dance break was over but Woojin seemed to have other plans.

Chan made to grab his guitar again when he got pulled back, right into the singer’s chest. He wrapped his arm around Chan, pulling him closer and just hugging the man there. He prodded his partner slightly in response, sighing not out of dissatisfaction when he got no reaction.

“Woojin, we can’t do this in the show tomorrow. There’s five minutes tops between performances, and you know it.” He tried playing the serious musician card but the brunette only hugged him closer, burying the younger’s head in his shoulder.

“Humor me, love. Let us have this moment to ourselves,” he mumbled and kissed Chan’s head. There was a sleepy quality to the evening, only Woojin’s humming and the ventilation system making an audible impact. From where he stood, the younger could feel the vibrations of his fiancé’s voice more than he could hear it. The floor possessed a sheen of off-white, barely lit by the dim hanging lights lining the room.

“We’ve played together for years,” Woojin continued, combing through the other’s hair. “We can handle not rehearsing one song for the fifteenth time this week. Just relax.” He let Chan go for a second, only to reach behind the counter and pull out a new record to play. Frank Sinatra floated out of the bulky device toward the pair, and Woojin started dancing around again, blonde in tow.

The two stepped around, waltzing and swaying as jazz played through the funnel, and occasionally Chan would get dipped back again, ballroom style, by the other. They hummed along, Woojin knowing more of the words and Chan wanting to get back to his instrument and accompany his partner.

Neither made to move though, so they stayed in position.

Minutes trickled by as they sang, feeling like even time slowed to capture the moment. The pair fell into a pattern, and Chan sang when he remembered a line or two.

They might have realized at one point that they needed to sleep, that they had work the next day. Fortunately or unfortunately, it didn’t stop them from stumbling outside at midnight, giddy from having time to themselves. Nothing but Chan’s drooping eyes and Woojin’s soft laugh indicated that they should go. It was only when they fell onto a well-loved mattress that Chan realized they had arrived at home.

 _Home_ , he thought. This was home, this one bedroom apartment. There was home in the pictures on the walls, in the bathroom that had recently been trashed by their friends. There was home in the plants his cousin had shoved in random places and in the odd glow-in-the-dark owl decals Woojin’s brother pasted on the living room ceiling.

There was home in the way Woojin’s humming had gotten softer with sleep, but it still rumbled against Chan’s ears. There was home in how Chan automatically curled into Woojin after a long day of work and cheek kisses.

They had found home in each other.


End file.
